


all my best intentions

by surrenderer



Category: Bandom, Empires, The Academy Is...
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-15
Updated: 2012-05-15
Packaged: 2017-11-05 10:07:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/405229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/surrenderer/pseuds/surrenderer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What is there left that wouldn’t sound stupid or ridiculous or even begin to repair the damage?</p>
            </blockquote>





	all my best intentions

**Author's Note:**

> There was once a time in my life when I shipped Mike and Tom and their angst with the intensity of a thousand suns. I guess reposting this is a throwback to those days.

Mike gets the call from Butcher, and as he listens, he’s squeezing the phone so hard that he almost breaks it. He hangs up moments later, because he knew it was coming, he knew that this would happen. But he never expected it to happen so soon.

Bill calls right after Butcher, all smug satisfaction over the line, and Mike wants nothing more to be there with him, so he could give Bill a good punch in the face. It’s not going to fix anything, though, but he knows what will, what he hopes will. Mike’s already pulling on a jacket as Bill talks, grabbing his keys from the side table before hanging up on Bill. He’ll get plenty of shit for that later, but he couldn’t care less right now.

He drives, gripping the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles are turning white, but he can’t let go. He can’t turn around, because he can’t give up on Tom, he can’t. But a small part of him says, ever so softly, that maybe Tom’s given up on _him_.

Mike ignores it as he pulls the car to a halt in front of Tom’s building. He barely remembers to actually park the car before he’s out of the driver’s seat and going up the steps, two at a time.

When Tom opens the door, brief shock flits across his face before he becomes unreadable to Mike, and that hurts more than it should. Tom’s always been open to him, always let him in, even before all this, even before this whole mess that Mike can’t regret no matter how much he wants to.

Now that hurts.

“What?” Mike winces internally at the bitterness, the way that Tom’s voice cuts deep. “What could you possibly have left to say to me?”

“I…” Mike trails off, because Tom’s right, as much as he doesn’t want to admit it. What is there left that wouldn’t sound stupid or ridiculous or even begin to repair the damage? He tries again, but it’s useless. They both know it.

Tom smiles, hard and bitter. It’s not a real smile, it’s not. Mike knows Tom’s real smile, a lot better than he cares to admit. And it stings, it stings to know this is over, because the way Tom’s looking at him, all simmering anger under his cold eyes? It couldn’t be anything _but_ over.

It’s over. And they both know it. Mike never thought it would end this way, though.

Somehow, he doesn’t think that Tom expected it either.

“Exactly.” And the doorframe shakes from the impact as Tom slams it shut in Mike’s face. And Mike stares at the plain white paint, the doorknob that rattled slightly with the impact, wishing that he could regret ever loving Tom in the first place.

But he can’t. And that’s what hurts the most.


End file.
